


Do You Want to Kiss as Bad as I Do Right Now?

by reddieandgoodnight



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddieandgoodnight/pseuds/reddieandgoodnight
Summary: "Stan startled a little as something squeezed his hand. He glanced down at where Mike’s hand was wrapped around his own, a dark perfect tone against his pale, splotchy skin. He blinked as Mike’s hand once more tightened around his, and he looked up to find Mike gazing at him, black eyes seeming to see something inside Stan that even he didn’t know."A home for a Stanlon prompt I wrote on Tumblr.





	Do You Want to Kiss as Bad as I Do Right Now?

Stan squirmed only a little as his hands locked with one of Ben’s and one of Mike’s. Normally he’d be thinking of all the reasons why you shouldn’t mix your blood with someone else’s, but not now, not when his every thought—whether waking or dreaming—returned to that…. _thing_ …beneath Derry. That _IT_ who had killed Bill’s little brother Georgie, who had broken Eddie’s arm, who had nearly ripped off his own face when it took the shape of that horrible, horrible woman. 

And now all seven of them had sworn to return if _IT_ ever came back.

He prayed that would never happen, but some very small part of him told him how unlikely it was that a band of seven ragtag losers had really defeated whatever _IT_ was. 

Stan startled a little as something squeezed his hand. He glanced down at where Mike’s hand was wrapped around his own, a dark perfect tone against his pale, splotchy skin. He blinked as Mike’s hand once more tightened around his, and he looked up to find Mike gazing at him, black eyes seeming to see something inside Stan that even he didn’t know.

Ben let go of his other hand, so Stan released Mike’s, breaking whatever strange current that seemed to be strung between them. He looked away from Mike and over at Bill.

Bill, who had wanted to find Georgie so badly that they were all dragged into this summer of horror. Of course, Stan knew none of it was really Bill’s fault, but the childish part of him wanted to throw the blame right at his best friend’s feet.

“I hate you,” Stan found himself saying, staring into Bill’s eyes. 

Bill blinked at him, looking unsure. Stan could feel the others—Richie, Eddie, Beverly, Ben, and Mike, _especially Mike_ —gazing at him, probably with that same lack of understanding.

So Stan smiled and let them laugh it off as a joke.

”I have to go,” he muttered, not waiting for an answer as he turned and walked away into the woods toward town. The bites on the side of his face throbbed with each step, that slightly rotten, sewer smell that pervaded the barrens seeping into his nostrils.

_Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about IT._

”Hey, Stan!”

Stan glanced over his shoulder to see Mike hurrying after him. Mike seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun, to shine in a way that the others just didn’t. Not that Stan didn’t love the others, of course

_(I hate you)_

but Mike was just…different. Stan thought it was likely because of Mike’s relative newness to the group, but another part of him found a strange kinship with Mike. All of his friends had problems, Stan knew that. He also knew that none of them fully understand what it was like to have your face scrubbed with snow until it bled just because you were Jewish. Just because of that. 

But Mike knew what it was to be different, to be hated for it. 

Mike caught up with Stan easily. Stan found himself staring at the muscles in Mike’s arms and hurriedly looked away.

_I want to touch them._

Stan blushed, shoving the thought away.

”What’s up, Mike?” he murmured.

Mike gazed at Stan until Stan looked back up at him, two sets of brown eyes locking.

”Hey, uh, come sit with me for a minute,” Mike finally said, gesturing at a log off to the side. 

Stan’s brow furrowed. “I…uh, okay.” 

Stan followed Mike to the log and sat down beside him. They were quiet for a moment, just listening to the sounds of the last vestiges of summer around them. 

“How’s your face?” Mike asked after a moment. 

Stan sighed, reaching up to touch the bandages. “It’s okay.”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” Stan said quickly, nearly snapping. He could feel his body growing tense, taut as a rope at its breaking point. 

_I’m fine. I’m fine. IT is gone. I’M FINE._

One of Mike’s broad hands came up to rest on Stan’s shoulder, and he waited patiently until Stan finally turned to look at him.

“Stan, I know we haven’t known each other that long…at least, not as long as you’ve known the others, but…it’s okay to not be okay.”

Stan stared at him. Oddly enough, instead of the usually choking anxiety that rose inside of him most times, Stan found himself relaxing under Mike’s warm, earnest gaze.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked again.

After a moment’s hesitation, Stan shook his head. “No,” he whispered. A pause. “Bill doesn’t understand.”

“Have you talked to Bill?”

“No…I just know he won’t.”

Mike nodded. He lifted his arm to wrap around Stan’s shoulders. 

Again, Stan felt that strange pull—that tug toward Mike he’d noticed over these last few weeks but had never allowed himself to dwell on. He let Mike pull him into Mike’s side, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt just a little safe.

“ **Why are you so nice to me**?” he mumbled.

“Because I think you’re a good person,” Mike replied softly. “And I think you’re kind. And brave. And I think…you know what being an outsider feels like.”

Stan looked up at Mike, who gazed back with seriousness. After a moment, he let his eyes trace over Mike’s sweet face. Mike just looked back, almost encouraging him. Stan’s gaze landed on Mike’s lips, noting how soft they looked.

_Wait, they’re coming closer._

Stan leaned back with a tiny gasp, eyes shooting up to meet Mike’s. They stared at each other. Stan could feel himself trembling a little, but it wasn’t a bad sort of trembling. His lips parted just a little, and he breathed in, that summer hay smell that was just _Mike_ wafting over him, calming him. 

He wondered if Mike tasted like that, too, and a flush crept up his neck. Mike seemed to notice, smiling just a little.

This time, when Mike leaned forward, Stan didn’t move. He watched Mike’s kind eyes draw closer and closer, noting the gold flecks in them. 

“Stan?” Mike whispered, their lips only inches apart. “ **Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now**?”

Stan quivered at the words before darting forward and pressing his lips to Mike’s, pulling away after only a couple of seconds.

Mike stared at him before grinning. He lifted a hand to rest gently over Stan’s bandaged cheek; at his touch, the pain of IT’s bites seemed to fade away. 

Stan tilted his head to the side as Mike leaned forward, tenderly pressing their lips together. The kiss was chaste and sweet, not heated as they would become in later years, but for now, it was everything to Stan. 

_Everything_ because for the first time in forever, he felt understood.


End file.
